skip to main |
skip to sidebar
CSI: DALLAS
Here be the site of the world's original "Nightmare On Elm Street", outside the Texas Book Depository Building in Dallas (or "Suppository" as the dude in Full Metal Jacket called it). I have an airtight alibi--I was in the womb when JKF was assassinated, but I have to say that Lee Harvey Oswald was one helluva shot to be able to nail a moving target from that distance (twice). Hovever, I think he had a little help, as well. Hard to believe next year will be the 50th anniversary too.
"LOOK THROUGH ANY WINDOW...WHAT DO YOU SEE?"
Here's a look at Oswald's perch in the Book Suppository Building. I highly recommend a visit to the 6th Floor Museum thereof. It starts you in the back of the building and you make your way through a labyrinth of photos and exhibits about the Kennedy Administration and the world in general of the early '60s. You eventually are led to corner window where LHO did his dirty work, of course, but the only downside is they're real anal about taking photos inside the museum, for some reason. Very educational, all the same.
X MARKS THE SPOT...
...literally, of where John F. Kennedy was shot, in the middle of Elm Street. It's amazing how the Dealey Plaza area has remained pretty much unchanged in almost 50 years, although you may notice that the "grassy knoll" across the road ain't so grassy these days. When I drove away from the area after my museum tour, it felt kinda creepy driving over that X in the road, and I won't deny I was looking over my right shoulder in case someone was taking aim at me and my Grand Marquis!
WE DON'T NEED NO STINKING WARREN COMMISSION...
...we got all the answers right here! Never ceases to amaze me how these crackpots are able to con people into buying their leaflets and propaganda in regards to the Kennedy assassination. Just another reminder that P.T. Barnum was right about the 60-second reproduction rate of suckers...
IT'S A BLOODY REUNION...
Fans of J.R. Ewing and the TV show Dallas are no doubt familiar with this sight, Reunion Tower and glass palace Hyatt Regency next door. Once upon a time, the tower housed a radio station whose studios were visible to the public, which would've driven me nuts if I was deejay-ing there with people constantly gawking at me. There was also a time when you could ride up to the observation deck and get some killer views of downtown, the Kennedy sites and about half of Texas, but that is no longer the case. They closed off the deck in 2009 and never re-opened it, and the only way you can go up in the tower now is if you want to waste your hard-earned money on overpriced (and overrated) Wolfgang Puck food at his hoity-toity restaurant. Give me Waffle House any day over that pigeon food...
"MAKE SURE THEY GET YOUR GOOD SIDE, GOOD SIDE..."
Is there not a more famous profile in football history? This is the very accurate statue of legendary Dallas Cowboys head coach Tom Landry, which now stands guard outside of Cowboys Stadium in Arlington. More about "Jerry World" forthcoming soon in Episode 6...
UNFORGETTABLE...
I'd been there before, but I remembered to make it a point to stop by the Alamo in San Antonio again on the 2012 WWTT. My trusty and ever-prescient iPod has a good memory too--as I approached the Alamo on foot, without any provocation from me, Mr. iPod kicked in with an Ozzy Osbourne song. Long about 30 years ago, the Prince of Darkness got pissed as a newt while staying in San Antone, and summarily took a whiz on the famed landmark, which landed him in the pokey for the night.
"GIMME SOME OF YOUR FINE FAMOUS BAR-B-Q..."
I decided to dine al fresco (as opposed to Al Yankovic) along the San Antonio Riverwalk, and checked out some local BBQ fare at a joint called The County Line. I enjoyed their sampler platter of meaty delights, and it was all quite tasty, especially that gi-normous beef rib, as well as the turkey and sausage. Still not quite as good as K.C. barbecue, but not too shabby, Texas.
The Stadium Stalker struck again while in San Antonio, as he alertly spotted an open gate and snuck into Alamo Stadium, just north of downtown. Built back during the Great Depression, it's home mostly to high school and small college football and track & field events now, but it was once upon a time home to professional football for very brief stints in the '70s and '80s with the short-lived San Antonio Wings of the World Football League and the San Antonio Gunslingers of the USFL. Neat old stadium, but it loses a little something with the evil AstroTurf they haven't replaced with Field Turf yet.
AUSTIN CITY LIMITED
Not pictured here, mostly because I didn't take any photos there, is the city of Austin, which I spent one night in. During my previous visit to Austin in 2000, I only got to see it late at night from I-35 because of poor planning on my part. It was a Friday night, and I'd just come from San Antonio, and was planning to get a room in Austin, but there were none to be had because of something called the Texas Relays. Even rooms in nearby towns like Round Rock were booked solid, so I wound up catching a cat-nap in the car at a rest area instead. I actually had a room this time, but it wasn't really worth it for what little I did in the city. The traffic on I-35 (both northbound and southbound) was a total clusterfuck (even after rush hour), and I was too tired and frustrated to get out and do the drinking and music district south of downtown, so I just cruised the U ot T campus a bit, and passed by the state capitol, where people were out protesting the Trayvon Martin thing. [Never mind that his murder took place in Florida, but when there's political football to be played, I guess the state doesn't matter.] Anyway, Austin wound up being the big disappointment of the trip.
Stadium Stalker struck again at the University of Baylor on a Wednesday morning, at Floyd Casey Stadium (not to be confused with Floyd Cramer Stadium). That gaggle of people on the field was apparently the inquisition at one of these NFL "Pro Days". Essentially, these exercises in overkill amount to an opportunity for budding young players like QB Robert Griffin III (that's him standing on the nearest goal line underneath the crossbar of the goal post) to show off for and/or impress the various scouts and media people.
NOT PICTURED HERE...
...but worthy of mention is the Texas Sports Hall of Fame, also located in Waco. Lots of great displays and exhibits there for pretty much all sports, including an outstanding tribute to the old Southwest Conference (SMU, TCU, Rice, Houston, Texas, Texas Tech, Texas A&M and Arkansas) that was housed in a psuedo mock-up of the Cotton Bowl stadium.
Lily and Herman weren't home, but I think I saw Grandpa flying about when I stopped by Waxahatchie, Texas' most famous homestead, the Munsters replica mansion, just a little ways south of the Dallas clusterfuck--er uh--Metroplex. This isn't actually my photo--I stole it from the 'net because the house is located on a narrow country highway with no safe place to park my car. Plus, this gate is shrouded by trees--I passed right by the place twice without seeing it because it was hidden so well. The interior is also quite close in detail to the one on the TV show (I'd love to see Grandpa's dungeon!), apart from the coffin in the wall that served as a telephone booth--the wife of the house thought it was too creepy to replicate that. One weekend per year prior to Halloween, the folks who built and own the house open it up for public viewing, often in conjunction with guest appearances by former cast members Butch Patrick (Eddie) and Pat Priest (Marilyn). Ironically, my hotel in Dallas was located near a street called Mockingbird Lane.
STEAK-ING MY CLAIM...
This was my Wednesday lunch at a place west of downtown Ft. Worth called Fred's Texas Cafe, featured on "Diners, Drive-Ins & Dives". I was a bit leery about eating at a place run by a cook who sports a very respectable Z.Z. Top beard, but Fred's claim to fame is his spicy 16-ounce ribeye steak, which I couldn't resist trying. It was pretty damn good, once my eyes stopped bleeding from the jalapeno smoke and I could actually taste it, that is. I'm not quite sure if it was worth what I paid for it, but I enjoyed it anyway. Guy Fieri was 2-for-2 at this point on the trip...
"LOOK AT ME, I CAN BE CENTERFIELD..."
This would be the somewhat pointless centerfield slope at Astros Field in Houston (formerly known as Enron Field and currently known as Minute Maid Park, but I prefer to call it 'Astros Field'). The flagpole-in- play shtick is reminiscent of Tiger Stadium in Detroit, yet very few fair balls ever enter this area of the park, which I had the pleasure of touring last week. Our tour guide was a spunky lady named Della, and she was was quite knowledgeable and passionate about the current Astros playground, which ironically I passed by on foot the very day it opened in 2000, but there were no tickets to be had that day. The $9 tour took us up to the press box, and down to the Astros dugout, as well as the visitors bullpen in left center field (which is outfitted with actual Astrodome AstroTurf) and through the innerds of the hand-operated out-of-town scoreboard in left field. I've never been INSIDE a scoreboard in my life before, so this was quite an honor. This whole tour was a last-minute addition to my itinerary, and a very pleasant surprise, indeed. Someday, I'll actually do a game there, especially since the Astros will be joining the American League next season...
Houston, we have no problem...
EVERYTHING'S BIGGER IN TEXAS...
This was my lunch on Monday at a place called Langford's Groceries, just off downtown Houston, which was profiled on Food Network's "Diners, Drive-Ins & Dives". It's not actually a grocery store, but an eatery housed in what used to be a gas station garage once upon a time. I placed the Diet Coke can there to give this thing some scale--that's 1.5 pounds of freakin' beef! I ate every last ounce of it in one sitting, too, and it was outstanding. This thing makes a Hardee's "Monster Burger" look positively bite-size in comparison. Guy Fieri got this one right...
SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE...
I was tickled to death to see that this Texas institution still exists, the mighty Spec's Liquors. It was here at their location near downtown Houston that I legally purchased alky-hol for the first time back in 1984. I was only 19 at the time, but this was back before Texas raised the legal drinking age to 21. Even their signage hasn't changed in 28 years...
"WE'LL KICK TO THE CLOCK"
In the 1962 American Football League Championship Game, Dallas Texans' RB Abner Haynes uttered this rather infamous gaffe during the coin flip before overtime (he should've told the ref that the Texans wanted the ball) at the 50-yard line of this venue, Jeppesen (now Robertson) Stadium at the University of Houston and orginal home of the Houston Oilers. That's not the clock the Texans kicked to, of course, but it is the direction that Haynes chose to kick it. Turned out his FUBAR didn't matter anyway, as the Texans won that day, in their final game before becoming the Kansas City Chiefs.
TICKLE ME, ELMO...
Apart from Otis Taylor and Jan Stenerud, Elmo Wright was my favorite Chiefs player from back in their glory days, thanks mostly to his silly TD celebration dance he'd do in the end zone (at the 4:45 mark of this video). Elmo is also honored in the end zone of Jeppesen/Robertson Stadium as one of the standout "Coogs" of the U. of Houston. The stadium, which has also served in recent years as the home of Major League Soccer's Houston Dynamo, will be demolished after the 2012 football season and replaced by a brand new stadium.
I hit the highway last week and spent seven days in the land of Tejas. Good trip, overall, but I could've done without the warm and sticky weather (which arrived a month earlier than it should have), as well as the more-than-abundant number of dead bugs coating my windshield and front bumper. As per my usual, here be a pictorial chronicle of my travels...
Instead of taking the conventional route to Texas via I-35 through Oklahoma City, I decided to take U.S. 71 down through Missouri and Arkansas. My first stop was Joplin, MO, where I got my firsthand look at the devastation from last year's tragic tornado there. The rebuilding process has been gradual, but very slow, given the massive scope of the damage inflicted on this town, including Mercy Medical Center, which suffered a direct hit during the storm. It remains largely unchanged in almost a year (the storm struck on May 22, last year) as the staff continues to operate out of temporary facilities and mobile CT and MR units. However, it's about the only structure that even remained upright within about a two-mile radius. I wish these folks well in their on-going recovery efforts...
This would be Sam Walton's first retail store in downtown Bentonville, AR. It now houses a Walmart museum (which, surprisingly, they don't charge any money to enter), and the company's rather unimpressive corporate headquarters is located about a mile away. Rather ironic that the original store is festooned in Target's colors. [NOTE: I've been dying to use the word 'festooned' for a while now...
This is the video board at Razorbacks Stadium at the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville. I'm not real crazy about MU moving to the SEC, but Missouri fans do have a nice new road trip option when the Tigers play down yonder--probably about a three-and-a-half hour drive from Columbia. I've been lobbying for years for Arkansas to join the Big 12, but ain't no way that's going to happen...
"THEY'RE THIRSTY IN ATLANTA, AND THERE'S BEER IN TEXARKANA..."
Just like Kansas CIty, Texarkana has a State Line Road dividing it. That's Arkansas on the left and Texas on the right, and the courthouse smack dab in the middle in this photo. [Note the bug crap already accumulating on my windshield, after just six hours on the road] Fortunately, I didn't encounter Sheriff Buford T. Justice lurking around town whilst I passed thru...
The Rainmakers (Saturday, March 10, 2012—Farris Theater, Richmond, MO) Ticket price: $10.00
Kansas City’s Rainmakers have now landed in my personal Pantheon of bands that I’ve seen five or more times in concert, along with the likes of Kiss (17 times), Ted Nugent (9 times), Z.Z. Top and Van Halen (7 times each) and The Who (5 times). As per their usual, they did not disappoint on Saturday night, despite playing for what was easily the strangest audience for a Rock show I’ve ever been a member of and in what I’m pretty sure is the oldest venue at which I’ve ever attended a concert.
Hello, dear friends. Didn't mean to abandon y'all, and I apologize for not updating the blog for over two months, but honestly, I haven't really had anything new to say or felt compelled enough to do any creative writing recently. I've been keeping myself busy with other projects at home and have also been making a concerted effort to spend a little less time in front of the computer and get my ass out of said house a little more often and rejoin the human race a bit, thus the dearth of activity here. I was actually even debating whether or not to do this post, but I'm kinda tired of looking at Barney and the gang from the Ol' 1-2 at the top of the blog, so here we are...
I received an anonymous comment the other day regarding the blog entry I posted back in October on actor Demond Wilson's tell-all book about his "Sanford & Son" years in which I took him to task not so much for what he wrote, but the way in which he wrote it (i.e. dreadful grammar and spelling, etc.). The person who wrote the comment didn't bother to sign his/her/its name to it, and I generally make it my policy to NOT publish negative comments on my blog unless there's a name attached to them, and I debated whether or not to glorify this one with an answer, but I just can't let this go. First off, here is the entire comment, completely unaltered by me:
"You went on and on here complaining about how bad Wilsons book is in grammer and style. However, you should know that how well a book is written,edited or presented in binder, look and feel, has a great deal to do with the education level of the one reading it. There are people whos educational level would find mistakes in some of the finest literature ever created. You noticed many of Demonds mistakes in his book, yet there are plenty of mistakes that you have made in this article or blog that you have done in critique of the book. Perfect grammer and language isn't as important as the message that one is trying to get out. Demond still gave us the info, regardless of how poorly it is writen, just as you have given us the book review, regardless to how imperfect your review is. I still learned about the content of Demonds book from your article although there are those who could point out plenty of mistakes in your writting. Lesson? Let's pay attention to the gift that someone gives the world and not so much as the crummy package that they wrapped it in. I do not want to say It's the thought that counts because it is so cliche, but take it for what it's worth. I find info on the internet all the time that I really need and it always has grammer mistakes, but I still get the info I need and move on. The days of speaking the perfect sentence verbally and in print are over with. It's a new world! I will not speel check what I just wrote to you. Why? Because I just wanted to tell you this, I care not if it reads like a perfect novel."
Wow. So bascially, what you're saying is it's perfectly okey-dokey to accept mediocrity and not strive to do better in life, right? That's a pretty ignorant attitude—is this what they taught you in the ghetto school you attended? Or are you a graudate of the University of Hee-Haw? Nobody's perfect, and any book is bound to have some errors in it (grammatical, factual, whatever), but you seem to think it's okay to just publish any old piece of shit and not make the effort to put out the best possible product. It's this kind of attitude that creates blunders like the faulty brakes in Toyotas. Bad analogy, maybe, but you get my point? Nah, didn't think so...
Okay, maybe I nit-picked a bit much on Wilson in my blog entry, but since I paid good money for his book, I felt that he was fair game for criticism. And he's a grown man—I think he can take it. If I were publishing a book for the masses to read and it had my name on the cover, I'd want to put out something I could be proud of, not something half-assed and sloppy like he did. By the way, are you aware that on the cover of another of Demond Wilson's publshed books, his name is listed as "Desmond Wilson"? Don't tell me you wouldn't be pissed if your name was misspelled on something you worked hard to create. If so, you're a fucking idiot.
And oh what a coward you are to take pot shots at my blog and not have the balls to sign your fucking name to your comments. You're like all these other dickheads out there on the Internet who hide behind their computers and the anonymity thereof who don't take responsibility for their words. As I've stated many times here, I WELCOME any dissenting opinions or REASONABLE challenges to what I write, but the least you can do is identify yourself if you're going to post negative comments on my blog. At least in my critique of Wilson, I back up my words with my name. Did you even bother to notice that I made some positive comments about Demond's book at all? Of course not, you're too busy being all pious and pompous with your bullshit platitudes about just being thankful for the information.
Your grammar is even more atrocious than Wilson's was. If you don't like what (or how) I write, then don't read my blog—it's obviously way too advanced for a simple-minded moron like yourself anyway. By the way, I am my own worst critic when it comes to what I write on my blog. I spend way more time than I should going back over and correcting typos and grammatical errors, but you know why? Because I actually GIVE A DAMN what the my blog looks like and how it reads. Would you care to share with me some of these alleged mistakes you've found in my writing? I'd love to hear them. Come on, Big Man...
I recently completed my viewing trek through all eight seasons of “Barney Miller” on DVD. I got tired of waiting around for TV Land and/or Nick At Nite to 86 their incessant “Roseanne” and “Andy Griffith Show” reruns in favor of New York’s finest, so I went ahead and bought the whole damn series on DVD for a C-note, and it was well worth it. Although critically acclaimed, BM still remains one of the more underrated sitcoms of all-time, I think because too many viewers either don’t get (or aren’t patient enough to appreciate) the show’s subtle humor. There’s no way in hell this show would ever last if it aired today—it’s too sophisticated for our current short-attention-span generation in dumbed-down America.
“Barney” debuted on ABC in early 1975 as a midseason replacement and ran until the spring of ’82, when the producers wisely decided to end the show before it had a chance to jump the proverbial shark, thus it remained consistent throughout its run. Actor Hal Linden brilliantly played the title character, the level-headed yet beleaguered Captain Miller, the kind of guy I think we’d all like to work for, if given the chance. Miller ran New York’s fictional 12th Precinct in Lower Manhattan, and his subordinates had almost as many quirks and personal issues as the zany perps they arrested on a daily basis, but they somehow persevered and worked as a team as they battled crime, police department bureaucracy and the decaying building they worked in.
Not surprisingly, it didn’t take me long to read Ace Frehley’s new memoir, No Regrets. As expected, it was an entertaining read, given that Planet Jendell’s most famous citizen is my favorite member of Kiss. Gene Simmons used to be my favorite, but his continued douche-y-ness over the years has given me cause to drop him in the rankings, just ahead of Vinnie Vincent. And as much as I enjoyed Ace’s book, I do have to question his credibility at times here—if you have to enlist the help of other people to recall parts of your own life because you were too fucked up to remember it yourself, then how accurate can your stories be? The book’s title annoys me slightly, too—it drives me nuts whenever someone claims they have no regrets or that they wouldn’t change anything that happened in their life, if given the chance. Bullshit! We all have things in our pasts that we’d give anything to revise or just plain eliminate. I know I do, anyway.
Spoiler alert: I’ll be quoting several passages in the book verbatim here, so if you plan to read it yourself, you might want to consider whether to pass or play. And now my thoughts, in no particular order…
--Ace played in numerous local NY bands in the late ‘60s and early ’70s before joining Kiss, and he mentioned that some of them covered songs by Cream, Jimi Hendrix, The Who and even my boys Paul Revere & The Raiders. Man, I’d love to have heard Ace ripping up on the likes of “The Great Airplane Strike”, “Hungry” and “Steppin’ Out.”
--I was unaware that Mr. Frehley was friends with the late John Belushi in the early ‘80s. Not shockingly, they were excitable boys who partied hardy, according to Ace.
--It’s real easy to forget that Ace’s given name is Paul. He got his legendary nickname during his teen years because of his natural ability to score with the ladies, thus making him an “ace”. He still went by Paul even by the time he auditioned for Kiss, but since “Paul” was already spoken-for by Mr. Stanley, Frehley made Ace his professional name. His close friends, family and significant others all call him Paul, though, even today. That would be weird to me to be known by two different names, but I could live with it, I suppose.
--I was a bit surprised at some of the stuff Ace didn’t talk about in the book. He kept all his discussions about his relationship with drummer Peter Criss to a minimum throughout, even though Pete was more or less his drinking buddy/confidant within the band. Maybe he decided to let the Catman tell his own story in that regard if and when he comes forth with his own Kiss memoir (and I hope he does). Ace barely mentioned the late Eric Carr, either. Then again, they didn’t work together all that long (two years and change, basically), but I seem to remember that Ace always looked upon Little Caeser fondly. I was somewhat disappointed that Frehley didn’t at least refer to Eric’s untimely passing (20 years ago next week). Nor did Ace discuss working with Eric Singer after Criss left Kiss in 2001. He also didn’t spend much time talking about his solo career during the Frehley’s Comet era in the ‘80s or discussing his working partnership with Tod Howarth, who served a similar capacity to that which Derek St. Holmes did for Ted Nugent in the ‘70s, i.e., the good-looking singer/rhythm guitarist opposite the guitar god, so to speak.
--On Kiss’ infamous 1979 appearance on Tom Snyder’s “Tomorrow” show Ace writes: "You’re supposed to be some sort of spaceman, right?" Tom asked me at one point, while gesturing to my costume. "No, actually, I’m a plumber!" Snyder laughed from the gut, and fired right back, "Oh, well I’ve got a piece of pipe backstage I’d like to have you work on." A hanging curveball if I ever saw one! Regardless, I completed the R-rated joke with the delivery of a major-league all-star. "Tell me about it!’"
If you watch the video you can actually see me turning to Gene and putting my hands up at one point and quietly saying ‘What?’ like a child who’s misbehaving at a family function and wants his dad to loosen up and join in the fun. Gene was sometimes incapable of that, even in a setting that clearly called for some spontaneity and horsing around. It was all so ridiculous. How seriously can you take yourself when you’re sitting there in a superhero costume and full face makeup? Gene missed the whole thing. If he would have allowed himself to be just a little more lighthearted about everything and stopped fuckin’ thinking about money all the time, things might have turned out differently. I love the guy, but he never, ever got it.
Tom picked up on Gene’s negativity, and you could tell he wasn’t digging it. At one point Gene tried to make a joke about selling Tom some swampland in New Jersey, and Snyder completely ignored him and turned his attention back to me. It was like Gene didn’t exist.
Simmons himself has even admitted that he should’ve taken Ace’s advice and loosened up some. Apart from his 1978 solo album, the Snyder show was Frehley’s finest hour as a member of Kiss.
--The one story in Frehley’s book that really stuck with me (and I totally believe it) involves Gene Simmons’ invitation to Ace to appear on his “Family Jewels” show for the infamous celebrity roast episode in 2007. According to Space Ace: I listened to the (voice mail) message a few times, and with each playback, I became more convinced that I could sense a slight tone of desperation in his voice. Most of the roasts I recalled consisted of people who were friends or co-workers of the person being ‘honored’. That’s when it suddenly hit me: Gene doesn’t have any friends! Never did—as far back as I can remember. And everyone who has ever worked with Gene in the past has either been fired or quit. The only person who’s remained with him over the years is Paul Stanley.
And even the Starchild refused to participate in this debacle. To his credit, Paul keeps to himself when he’s not doing the Kiss thing, and doesn’t feel the need to prostitute his private/personal life around for public consumption like Gene does—it amazes me how these two function together, given what polar opposites they are, personality-wise. Anyway, Peter Criss was also invited to be a roaster, but the Catman was busy cleaning his litter box that weekend and politely declined, as did Ace. This explains Gene’s flotilla of newfound “friends” on the dais—hacks like Carrot Top, Paul Rodriguez, Andrew Dice Clay, Eddie Griffin and Danny Bonaduce—getting paid to roast him. After hearing how putridly the show turned out, Ace said: For a moment, I almost felt bad for Gene. I mean, really. How embarrassing. Btw, given the way Gene has repeatedly criticized Criss’ and Frehley’s well-documented substance abuse issues over the years, then why in blue blazes would he even consider being friends with a total fuck-up/fuckwad/desperate-to-remain-in-the-limelight whore like Bonaduce? Ol’ Dante’s drug/alcohol problem seems far worse than any of Ace and Peter’s past transgressions. But, I digress…
--Frehley’s stories about rooming with Gene Simmons during Kiss’s early touring days are pretty intriguing (assuming they’re true, that is)…
“I can’t say for sure because I don’t know a lot about his sexual history prior to KISS, but I do know that once we got out on the road, Gene reacted like a starving man at a smorgasbord. I believe Gene is a sex addict, in much the same way that I’m an alcoholic. We all have our issues and vices, and I saw Gene’s behavior affect him and the band in a negative way. Maybe not to the extent that my drinking impacted the band, but certainly there were consequences…See, Gene in those days seemed to live in a state of perpetual infestation. He would fuck almost anything (and I think he’s admitted as much). Short, tall; plump, svelte; attractive…merely tolerable. We all opened our beds to companionship on a regular basis, but somehow Gene was the one who would end up with bugs in his bush.
Gene has had a lot of unkind things to say about me over the years. Some of the criticism is legitimate. In sobriety you embrace accountability, and I can’t deny that my drinking and drug use eventually became highly disruptive and problematic. But some of the personal jabs have been harder to take, partly because we were all friends at one time, and we did do something remarkable, but also because Gene wasn’t exactly the easiest guy to get along with, either. Fastidious, if not downright anal in his professional life, Gene was an utter mess in his personal life. I guess having a love for money doesn’t have anything to do with cleanliness. I should know—for the first several tours Gene and I were roommates. Strange, considering we had so little in common…As I quickly discovered, Gene was an epic slob.
What can I tell you? Gene is eccentric. Always has been. He had a lot of idiosyncrasies. That’s okay. To each his own. I just thought it was a little strange.
First off, I’m impressed in this passage how Ace owns up to being a fuck-up back in the day (as he does throughout the book), and secondly, I think I have a much clearer picture of what Gene Simmons is really like from Ace’s book than what I got from Simmons’ own autobiography/hatchet job, Kiss And Make-Up, and it’s not too hard to figure out why Mr. Demon alienates so many people. Gene is such a control freak, it’s no wonder he pisses and moans about the things Ace and Peter did, simply because they didn’t do things HIS way. He has a very off-putting demeanor (even Paul Stanley thought he was a total dick when they first met), thus Gene’s basically been a loner all his life and doesn’t seem to have anyone you could call a longtime close friend. Kinda sad when you think about it—my old man was like that too. I’m a loner too, but at least I do have a few close friends.
--Just as an aside, why is it in every book I ever read that mentions Kiss, the band’s name is always KISS in all caps? True, this is how the iconic Kiss logo (designed by Ace) appears, but you don’t see CREAM or LOVERBOY referred to in print this way, do ya? In spite of what all the Holy Rollers will tell you that KISS is an acronym for Knights In Satanic Service, I personally think the name should be ‘capital K, little i, little s, little s’ in print. Ace’s original logo, by the way, had a diamond above it to dot the ‘I’ and a set of lips below it, but he later refined it to what we know and love today. The slashed s’s that are reminiscent of those made famous by Hitler in WWII and the fact that Ace is of German descent? Just a coincidence—Ace Frehley is not a Nazi, folks. Hell, two of his bandmates were Jewish…
--In one chapter Ace writes: So you might wonder now, "How does Ace feel about Kiss today?" I think they’re just a bunch of dirty rotten whores. Yet in another he says: Despite the many ups and downs I had with Kiss over the years, I couldn’t help but remember all the fun we shared in our formative years. We achieved greatness in the music industry and had several groundbreaking achievements well into the new millennium. To this day I still consider them my brothers in Rock ‘N’ Roll and love them. Okay, so which is it, Ace? In his appearance on the “Today Show” week before last, Ace talked about recently having lunch with Gene Simmons and how everything was cordial, blah blah blah. I don’t see how this can possibly be true after all these years of verbal media pissing matches between them. There’s certainly no way I’d be on friendly terms with Simmons if I were Ace—we’d have been at the “fuck you/I hope your dog dies” stage years ago. Then again, I’m not a very forgiving person in those terms, so take that for what it’s worth.
All in all, No Regrets is a fun read, and the pre-Kiss photos Ace enclosed are fun to look at. Not sure I believe everything he wrote, but I’m glad he finally got to fire back at Gene (and Paul, to a lesser extent), given the way they’ve talked out of their asses about Ace all these years.
Next book on the docket: Iron Man: My Journey Through Heaven And Hell by Black Sabbath’s Tony Iommi.
BY THE TIME I GOT TO WOODSTOCK...
...I was 2/3 of the way through my trip. I deftly avoided the brown acid and navigated my way through downstate New York to the hamlet known as Bethel, home of the iconic Woodstock Music & Arts Festival in August, 1969. I was originally planning to visit Bethel before New York City, but road closures caused by the flooding in the area put the kibosh on that plan, so I swung up that way after hitting Gotham instead. The concert took place in the field beyond the fence here, which was (and still is) a perfect natural bowl and the stage was situated near the dark strip in the grass in the upper part of this photo. Also on the site is the Museum At Bethel Woods, which of course chronicles the entire event and includes an art gallery and a small outdoor concert pavilion (that you actually have to pay to get into, unlike the festival). The museum is a pefect indocrination for those who are uninitiated on Woodstock lore, but for me it was pretty much all review, since I'm so knowledgeable about the subject. After seeing the area firsthand, it's no wonder this thing morphed into the world's largest clusterfuck of people ever, given the lack of decent roads in and out of Bethel.
YO, ROCKO—DONE ANY MAINTENANCE, LATELY?
You are looking at 1818 Tusculum Street in north Philadelphia, fictional former home of fictional pugilist Rocky Balboa. The row of apartments appeared way smaller to me in person than in the Rocky flicks until I realized that the two units at the far end of the block (below the el train tracks just to the left of the telephone pole) have since been torn down. The front door still has the same hand-painted '1818' on display, and it appears Rocky has moved up in the world, judging by the satellite dish on the side there.
YO, MICK—HOW YOU DOIN'?
Just a few blocks down the way by the el train is Mighty Mick's gymnasium, which is hardly mighty anymore. Pretty obvious by the dimensions here that there ain't no gym on the top floor. The pet shop where Adrian worked right across the street really was a pet shop back in the day, but it's long-since closed too. Not far from Rocky's apartment is Adrian and Paulie's house, but I didn't get a photo of it because I was a tad intimidated by the heathens roaming the streets in the neighborhood. To wit, we ain't talkin' Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids! Never once did I feel unsafe anywhere in New York City (even in Harlem), but I high-tailed my big honkin' Mercury Grand Marquis (with Missouri plates that screamed out, "TOURIST!") outta north Philadelphia before they could bring my hat to the hospital. This area looked rough 35 years ago in the first Rocky film and it's infinitely worse now. I'd rank north Philly right down there with East St. Louis and Gary, Indiana in the Shithole Sweepstakes.
